


Between the Heart and Lungs

by summoner_yuna_of_besaid



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Soul Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-22 00:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2487932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summoner_yuna_of_besaid/pseuds/summoner_yuna_of_besaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summoners are not supposed to care for their aeons.  Aeons are tools, objects, to be used, to serve the will of the Summoner.  So say the teachings of Yevon.</p>
<p>Yuna's first step on the path of heresy isn't killing Seymour... it is the very first time she thinks of an aeon as a person, and makes the mistake of letting them all in much deeper than any summoner is supposed to allow.</p>
<p>In which I explore Spiran culture, Yevon bigotry, the implications of being a Summoner with a bunch of awesome badass god-like spirits hanging out in your head, and soul-sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Valefor

They said there was a summoner come to the village, and Yuna had never heard the words said with such disdain.

Summoners were great people, deserving of respect, people like her Father who journeyed to save Spira.  So it was a curiosity that that the people of Besaid disliked this summoner, this stranger traveling from afar to pray at their temple.  They were always treated with the greatest kindness, allowed to stay in the temple, given the greatest comforts.

But Yuna watched as the summoner and her two guardians entered the village, and already she could see this summoner would not have that treatment.

The village elder greeted her with the prayer, but his look and tone held none of the awe and devotion it usually showed to summoners.  If the summoner realized, she seemed unbothered.  Her smile was gentle, and even, her look betraying no unease.  She returned the prayer, and the two exchanged a few words before the elder stepped aside, allowing the summoner into the village.  No one approached her; no one moved towards her as she made her way across the plaza.  Yuna, transfixed by the oddity, had made half a step towards her without realizing when a hand on her shoulder stayed her.

“Yuna, don’t!”  Spinning, the girl turned to face Lulu.  A good head taller than her, the younger had to strain to look up to her friend.  “It would not do to speak to her.”

“But, why?”  The girl allowed herself to be guided away, back to the hut.  “She is a summoner is she not?”

“Yes… but…”  Sighing, Lulu stepped in and pulled the curtain closed, giving them some privacy.  Chappu and Wakka were out, undoubtedly playing Blitzball on the beach, and Kimarhi was likely in the woods somewhere.  “Not all summoners are of equal standing.”  Yuna’s gaze fell; her eyes darkened.  A hand gently lifted her chin.  “Yuna, your father was a great man no matter what anyone says.  I did not mean to… bring back bad memories.”

Shaking her head, the girl grinned, wiping at her eyes a little.  “No, it’s fine, I’m okay.”

Lulu smiled, dropping her hand.  “Just – stay away from the summoner, won’t you?”  When it was clear Yuna was still confused, the elder sighed.  “Not all summoners have the best intentions.  Perhaps they begin that way, but in becoming summoners, they become distracted by the power it affords them.”

“What power?”

“The aeons.”  Lulu explained, sitting on the bed.  “Bonding with an aeon is said to be a – profound experience, and it obviously gives the summoner great power.  Some summoners become so entranced by this, they forget the fight against Sin, and care only to obtain more aeons, and revel in the power.”

Yuna for silent for a moment.  “I don’t suppose that’s so bad, now… since Sin is gone?  Maybe this summoner is just preparing for the future, in case it comes back.  And besides, if the aeons accept them, they must be good, right?”

Lulu gave a fond smile.  “Just… be wary.  She has a bad reputation amongst the temples.  I don’t want you being dragged into anything scandalous.”

Yuna smiled and gave a soft promise, keeping her own thoughts to herself.  She loved Lulu like a sister but the girl was over-protective sometimes.  Surely there was nothing so dangerous about the mysterious stranger.

Emboldened by the strange circumstances surrounding her arrival, Yuna became determined to speak to the summoner.  There was a part of her heart that was almost, quite sure she would follow that same path… only, she had yet to say it aloud.  Inside she had accepted the duty with grace, but it was telling others that was placing a strain upon her.  Wakka, Lulu, Chappu, Kimahri… how could she tell them?

And for herself, she did fear, a little.  The idea of such a journey was daunting, and as for what was to come after… but how could she not do all she could for Spira?  For her friends, for Besaid?  If her father could do it, then so could she.  _If Sin ever comes back, I shall be ready to face it_!  Yuna was determined to make it so.

But in the meantime, she simply wanted to speak to the odd summoner who had everyone walking on eggshells.  Which was how she found herself hovering outside the woman’s campfire, near the edge of the village, towards the temple.  She stood there for a few minutes, arguing with herself and trying to calm the pounding of her heart, when she heard a gentle chuckle and saw the summoner glance up.  A hand beckoned her forward.

“Come, little one,” The woman smiled, warm and welcoming.  “Do not be afraid.”

Timidly, the girl stepped forward, walking barefoot through the grass towards the woman.  She was tall, broad shouldered and full bodied, with dark skin and her hair pulled up into rolls on either side of her head.  “My name is Timere, little one,” The woman began when Yuna came to stand by the fire.  “And these are my guardians, Hosen,” She gestured first to an older man dressed like a crusader, “and Josen,” then a younger man with a scar running along his nose.  He smiled when Yuna looked to him, and she shyly smiled back, hands clasped tightly in front of her as a blush rushed to her face.

She bowed, the heat rushing to her ears as she tried to speak.  “I – I am Yuna, of Besaid. I – um – I am sorry for –“

“Yuna?  Daughter of Braska?”  The summoner’s eyes widened, and her smile became a grin.  “It is an honor, Lady Yuna.”  That only increased the girl’s blush.  To be called a lady, by a grown woman who was a summoner already, and she was not even an apprentice?  “You need not be sorry.  I am happy to have you here.”

“I, um, thank you.”  She stammered.  “I just – I was wondering if I could ask you about being a summoner.”

“Ask away.”  Timere replied easily.   At the simple acceptance, Yuna balked, for she was suddenly unsure how to ask her questions, or if it was even appropriate to ask.  But the look on the woman’s face was so kind and open, she managed to find her courage.

“What is it like?”  The little girl asked quickly and quietly, as if afraid she would be overheard.  “Summoning, I mean.”

“Mhm.”  The woman’s grin stretched into a smirk.  “It is a wonderful feeling, almost – impossible to describe.  When you join with an aeon, it is as if you have become complete, when you never realized you had ever been incomplete.  And summoning that aeon…”  A soft sigh escaped her mouth.  “It is truly bliss.  A greater happiness than I have ever known.”  Her soft eyes drifted to Yuna.  “I can see that the path of the summoner is before you.  If you chose to take it, know this:  the temples will try and tell you what summoning must be.  How it should feel, what you should allow it to be.”  Leaning forward, her fiery stern eyes held Yuna’s, and the girl could not look away if she wanted to.  “Don’t let them.  Whatever you want summoning to be, let it be that.  Let it be what it is, not what they demand it should be, austere and cold and selfless.”  The woman leaned away, back towards the fire.

“They say you are a bad summoner.”  Yuna managed to whisper, a nervous admission, almost an appeal to give less credence to her powerful words.  “They say you are an affront to Yevon.”

The woman glanced away, and shrugged.  “Perhaps I am.”  She admitted.  “The aeons do not seem to mind.”

* * *

Years passed, and the words of the Summoner Timere faded into the depths of her mind, drowned out by the dry preachings of monks and maesters.  Yuna began her training when she was twelve years old, took her oaths as an apprentice summoner at thirteen, and began to learn the ways of summoning that very day.

The aeons serve the summoner, the summoner serves the people, the people serve Yevon.  That was the way of things in Spira.  Only through strict adherence to this structure, through prayer and atonement, could Spira repent and be free of Sin once and for all.  Thus the summoner was guided through strict teachings how to interact with the aeons, how to control them, what to allow them to do and see.  Joining with an aeon was allowing the creature into the heart and mind, bonding two spirits which once done can never be undone.  Such a thing had to be done correctly or it could have grave consequences.

Yuna kept all this in mind as she ascended the stairs to the Chamber of the Fayth.  Heart pounding in her chest, she whispered a short prayer under her breath, before leaving her guardians behind, and entering the hall.  What awaited her she did not know.  None of the teachings told of what was in the Chamber, and they gave only the most technical explanations of what would happen.

Slowly, carefully, she edged forward, coming to kneel before the stone.  This she knew she would find, the stone which held the spirit of the fayth.   But seeing it was much different from studying it.  To her horror and amazement, she could see where the human body began and ended, where it melded with the stone, and at places where it became bestial, almost like a fiend… an aeon.  A person, submitting to the stone, submitting to the will of Yevon, the will of the Summoner… for all eternity.  It was more than she could comprehend.

Swallowing dryly, Yuna pulled herself together, holding tightly to her will, remembering all she had been taught of control, of drive… and she knelt in prayer, and opened her mind to the fayth.  She kept up all the appropriate borders, the walls of propriety, allowing only the shallowest gaze into her mind.  The aeon could not be allowed to overcome her, or danger might follow.  She had to be in control.

And so she prayed, once kneeling, then sitting up to perform the prayer, then kneeling again.  So she continued, for some time, awaiting a sign, any sign, that her prayers were heard…

Time began to blur and blend… an ache started in her lower back, in her knees as they pressed hard into the cold ground.  Her thoughts wavered, her control shaking.  This was harder than she could’ve imagined.  Biting her lip, Yuna shut her eyes, ignoring the sweat building on her brow, uttering her prayers incessantly… gripping the teachings like a lifeline, hoping beyond hope that the aeons would hear her…

And it was then, in that moment, that a whisper from the past came to her.

_When you join with an aeon, it is as if you have become complete, when you never realized you had ever been incomplete._

The thought jolted her out of her discomfort for a moment, making her wonder where in the world it had come from.  It felt so familiar, yet so out of place, as if her past had been jumbled and tossed about.  What was it from?  It was on the tip of her tongue…

_Perhaps I am. … The aeons do not seem to mind._

Yes, this… this was familiar to her exhausted mind but she had not the energy to figure it out.  Yet in her attempts her control had wavered, her enduring resolve fluttering, her barriers slowly slipping down.  And in that moment, something touched her mind.

“Ah!”  Leaping to her feet, Yuna gasped, shocked at the alien feeling the likes of she’d never known.  For a moment sheer terror overtook her, instinct driving her to step back.  What had happened? 

When she’d calmed enough to think rationally, it came to her – the aeon.  The aeon had touched her mind.  At that she only became more panicked, thinking that in her momentary fear she’d chased the creature away, ruined her chances… throwing herself prostate on the ground immediately, Yuna returned to her prayers, hoping beyond hope that she had not lost her chance.

But exhaustion and emotion had worn her down, and her defenses were not as the monks had told her they should be.  Her mind was open, her heart laid bare, all her thoughts and feelings clear as the eyes on her face.  The monks had always said such things were dangerous.  Aeons were tools, not beings – they were not meant to be liked, or to be known, and as such they should not know the summoner.  Only Yevon should know the hearts of his worshippers. 

Yuna’s heart was open… and the heart which touched hers was laid bare as well.

The next time the presence touched her Yuna couldn’t help but gasp.  It was – there was nothing else like it.  Suddenly, she was not alone in her own mind.  On the edges of her consciousness, skirting around her thoughts was another presence, another being with thoughts of its own.  She… this creature was a she.  _Aeons are not beings aeons do not have genders._ Somehow, the voices of the monks were easily swept away, as the aeon’s mind slipped further into hers.

It was slow, and gentle, at first, and then – all at once, like a river tumbling over a waterfall.  Yuna gasped, head thrown back, as giddiness rushed through her mind and set her veins alight.  Two minds became one, two hearts beat together, and the aeon known as Valefor stretched itself out inside Yuna’s body.

Heat flooded her, head to toe, as the spirit skipped about her mind, looking through all her years like it was flipping pages in a book.  She was overwhelmed by the feelings, by the memories the aeon was pulling up that she could not even recall, the thoughts it was finding she could not even remember.  _You’ve lost control!_  Panic threatened to take her over, but it could not take a foothold over pleasure.

Yes, this was pleasure.  The heat rolling through her in waves was growing, and growing.  Her skin tingled to the touch.  Fallen against the barrier above the stone, Yuna writhed, gasping for breath.  She felt so very hot, sweat pouring down her, limbs grasping for some invisible lover she couldn’t feel.  Between her thighs felt so – so – strange and alive, and wonderful, and so terrible because it kept growing and threatening to take her over, stealing her clarity away.

The aeon did not seem to realize her anxiety, for it was overjoyed.  The more it saw of Yuna’s spirit, the happier it became, until it truly became One with her, and allowed her to see into itself.  Into herself.  Valefor, the aeon of the skies, answered Yuna’s prayers, accepting her as a summoner and the girl barely bit back a scream.

She writhed, held in place by the creature’s spiritual embrace, having lost all control over the encounter.  Valefor’s power and consciousness seared her, soaring through her like a bird on the wind.  Heat exploded at the apex of her thighs and she could only gasp and arch her back, fingers twitching and breasts heaving with her lungs.  Valefor seemed satisfied, sending a few little electric jolts racing down her limbs, her spine, a soft gentle run of what almost felt like feathers caressing her breasts.  Valefor was pleased, to have a summoner so kind hearted, so open, … yet how tragic, that she was so young.

When Yuna could feel her limbs again, she barely managed to crawl to the hallway, haul herself up the wall, and stand.  Her strength gave way soon enough; she’d barely managed to make it out of the Chamber before collapsing, Kimarhi’s strong arms catching her.  She hoped beyond hoped he didn’t realize anything was amiss.

She was a summoner… oh yes, she was.  And she had made a terrible mistake.


	2. Ifrit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuna obtains her next aeon.

_Aeons serve the summoners, summoners serve the people, and the people serve Yevon._

That was the maxim every faithful of the temple lived by, reiterated in so many of Yevon’s teachings.  The aeons were first and foremost weapons and tools to be utilized by the summoners to protect Spira’s people.  They were not friends, they were not allies, they were subjects to the wills of the summoners, as swords served the will of their swordsman, not as unique beings but as thoughtless objects.

An aeon was not a person with a name, it was an object, to be summoned and used.  It was what she had been taught to believe from her youngest years, yet now… the thought had a nasty taste rising up the back of Yuna’s throat.

Or, perhaps that was simply the result of the day’s tragedies.  Kilika had felt Sin’s wrath, and her people had suffered the price.  Yuna had performed her first sending.  In practice, the dance had become almost clinical to her, as she had daily performed the routine until it was memorized.  But now… now she did not think she would ever think of it the same way again.

Performing the sending… actually performing it, not simply practicing the moves… it was transcendent in a way no monk had ever explained.  The feeling was exultant, almost heady, and the thought that it felt good made Yuna feel more guilty that she could say.  The Sending was one of the most difficult parts of being a summoner, one of their worst duties.  It should not be… pleasant. 

Yet, it was.  She could feel the energy of the pyreflies, the thread of life inside her reaching out to the Farplane and opening a door.  As they flitted about on the wind she could almost hear them singing, _thank you, thank you…_

Shaking her head, Yuna dismissed the thoughts and ascended the stairs to the Chamber of the Fayth. 

Only a short time ago, Yuna had received her first aeon.  That day she had summoned it for the people of Besaid, a mere presentation of her powers for the people she loved.  Seeing the Aeon – seeing Valefor for the first time… it stole her breath away.  To summon, Yuna had reached within herself to the deepest and darkest places, searching for light, and when it was found tugging upon it until it grew and grew and flowed out of her, into the sky, soaring ever upwards…

When Valefor had landed before her, looming majestically over them all, Yuna had almost fainted then and there.  To think this magnificent creature was bonded to her, served her?  Even then she could feel its mind within her own, it’s soul sealed to hers.  Valefor was a windy creature, a thing of flight and fancy, and within her Yuna felt its power budding like a maelstrom, warm and friendly yet fierce.  Looking into its eyes… she didn’t feel afraid.  It was like when she’d first met Kimahri.  She’d looked into the eyes of a stranger all others feared and found kinship.

Now, she was to do it again… and this time, she must do it right.  She must abide by the teachings, and keep her own heart at bay.  The relationship between Aeon and Summoner must be no more than servant and master, as Yevon bid.  Yuna bit her lip as she hesitated in the hall, before the main chamber. 

“Aeons serve the summoner…” She muttered under her breath, almost trying to convince herself.  Somehow, she couldn’t believe that such wonderful creatures were ever meant to serve _her_.

Sighing, the girl finally stepped into the room.  It was warm, blisteringly so, but not uncomfortable, somehow.  She felt… protected, as if she had stepped into someone’s embrace.  Kneeling, Yuna set her hands before her, performed the prayer, and bowed.  So the ritual began.

At least, it should have.  And yet… images flashed through her mind, thoughts and feelings assailing her.  Bodies floating in the water, timber tore and flung all around, children crying, homes decimated, blood turning the sea a sickly red…

Sin, looming over them all, before disappearing back into the sea.

A sound broke the silence and it took Yuna a moment to realize it came from her:  a sob, wrenched from her throat, and she threw her hand over her mouth at the realization.  This was a place of worship, not of – of melodrama.  She was a summoner.  Death and facing it was a part of her duties. As Lulu had said, “No more tears.” She must not cry.

Yet… Lulu was not here.  No one was here.  For the first time since Kilika was attacked, Yuna was alone, and free to let down the barriers around her heart.  She could mourn freely, let loose the pain that wracked her heart, the memories and the terror of Sin’s attack…

But this was the Aeon’s sanctum.  Here more than any other place, she was supposed to guard her heart, to keep her thoughts and feelings secret!  She – She…

She began to cry.

Bitter tears poured down her face, little hiccups escaping her from time to time.  Her hands covered her eyes as she cried, knelt over as if she were in prayer.  It was sacrilegious and foolish, but she could not stop.  The longer she indulged, the harder she cried, until she was shaking with it.

‘ _Why do you weep, little one?_ ’

A shocked gasp tore out of her throat.  Head flying up, Yuna spun round, dizzy from the sudden motions.  Her heart pounded in her chest.  After a moment’s hesitation, she weakly replied, “My Lord Aeon?  F – Forgive me, I – I,”

_‘You weep for the dead, for the living and their suffering, do you not?_ ’

Falling silent again, Yuna slowly lowered her head.  “Yes.”

At her answer, the air before her shifted.  Glittered and glowed, burned hot, and through the misty haze something appeared.  It wasn’t human, but it wasn’t quite a beast either, haloed with red light.  Yuna squinted in the dark suddenly made bright, almost afraid to look upon it.

When she did, she saw a spirit, the spirit of the Aeon itself, both human and beast.  Here and there, she could see both as one, one form overcoming the other, then back again.  For a moment, he was a mortal man, with bright red eyes, and in the next he was a red-furred beast, with curved horns and sharp fangs.  At all times, he was truly both.

_‘It has been so very long that a summoner has offered true emotion to me_.’  The deep gravelly voice shook the room with its power, and sent Yuna’s stomach into her throat.

“I – I meant no disrespect…”

She gasped lightly when a hand, a human hand, a clawed hand tinged with fur, brushed lightly over her cheek.  It wasn’t quite solid, and so it passed a little into her skin, and it felt as if she were being bathed with warm water. 

‘ _You fear me_.’  The aeon continued.  ‘ _Yevon teaches that I am a servant to_ your _will, bound to you by duty, yet you fear me_.’

Yuna wasn’t sure what to say.  Was the Aeon angry?  Was it going to turn away from her?  Terrified at the thought of failing in her duty, she reached out to him.  “Please – all I want is to protect Spira, I – I will do anything!”

The hand lingered a moment longer, then fell.  ‘ _Fear not, little one.  I will not abandon you.  You who have reminded me of how warm the living can be.  The summoners who pray here… they are always so cold.  So distant to me.  Masters to my slave.  But you… you are like those of old.  Bright and alive with fire.  I will serve you gladly._ ’

His words made her more uncomfortable.  She did not want to have a – a slave!  Yet, wasn’t that basically what Yevon meant by the teachings?  It… Yevon couldn’t possibly endorse such a thing…

‘ _Yuna…_ ’ Her name, spoken by the rumbling voice, sent strange shivers through her.  Voice caught in her throat, Yuna looked up to him, and his eyes burning like embers in a dying fire caught hers.  ‘ _Yuna, will you lay with me?  Will you enact the rites with me, as the summoners of old?_ ’

Lay with?  The Rites?  Confused and unsure of what was being asked of her, Yuna almost said no.  But… this was an Aeon, of Yevon.  She trusted this creature with her life.  And as Ifrit extended his hand to her, she couldn’t help but also want to take his hand… to want to know him better.  It was against everything she’d ever been taught, but she _wanted_ it.

A trembling hand took his, and she let herself be gently pulled into the center of the room, overtop the barrier guarding the stone of the Aeon.  At Ifrit’s gentle push, she was laid back across the barrier.  Heart hammering, sweat already pouring down her, Yuna laid there stiff and nervous, with her arms shaking at her side.  A chuckle reached her ears, and her eyes darted up.  Ifrit was… smiling.  His gaze was warm and kind as a clawed hand brushed through her hair.

_‘Such honest emotion I never thought to see again… do not be afraid.  I promise only to give you pleasure._ ’

Slowly, Ifrit leaned down, bright eyes growing brighter.  Yuna felt her chest rising faster, breathing hard, as his fangs and his lips came closer to hers… then they touched, and he passed through her, into her, within her.

At that moment, her heart caught fire. 

Her last coherent thoughts were his; she heard him laugh, a joyous laugh, inside her head, when they became one _.  You truly are remarkable_ , she heard him say, and thought for a moment to wonder why before all thought was washed away.  Heat overtook her, a warm blaze like nothing she’d ever felt.  From head to toe she tingled, buzzing with it, and her limbs shook and twitched as she was overwhelmed by it.  Gasping for air, Yuna arched, scraping her nails against the barrier which held her.

Then, the fire died down, simmering quietly in her mind.  Falling back, Yuna gasped heavily, chest heaving, and with a sad thought realized it must be over.  For a moment she felt guilty for wanting more, when she began to feel that tingle again… and another laugh.

‘ _Oh no, little one.  I am not done with you yet_.’

The heat began to rise again, more gently this time, centered on the apex of her thighs.  The realization made Yuna flush, biting her lip, and then a soft moan escaped her as the heat intensified.  It grew, and it grew, almost intolerably hot and pleasurable, until the girl couldn’t help but lift her legs, pressing her thighs together, trying to do – do _something_.  What she didn’t know, she just knew she needed more.

The form of the spirit appeared again, this time, as only one creature: the Aeon.  It still fluttered in and out of reality, not quite solid, but looked entirely as a beast.  ‘ _Fear not, Yuna_.’  Ifrit muttered in her mind, voice as strong and powerful as ever.  ‘ _I shall give you what you need_.’

Clawed hands, rough and bestial, gently reached through her pleated skirts, to brush over her thighs.  Yuna gave an embarrassed moan, gnawing on her lip, helpless but to watch as he pushed her legs apart.  Half of her wanted to move away and hide in shame, but the rest of her wished only to remain and see what else would come of this, desperate for the resolution of the feelings building and burning within her.

Her skirts slid up, over her knees, then down her thighs, until the core of her was revealed, covered only by a slim white cloth.  Ifrit did not move this, simply sliding into the gap created, until they were pressed snuggly together at the waist.  Yuna had to gasp at the feeling, arching into it – the beast’s furred waist burned hot against her skin, and more heat permeated the air around him as he knelt over her, one hand braced on the ground beside her head, the other cupping her clothed breast, kneading it gently.  She gave a desperate moan at the gentle touch.

“This is – this is wrong!”  Yuna managed to murmur between her heaving gasps for air.

‘Would you like me to stop?’ 

Ifrit ceased all motion, hovering above her, and when Yuna lifted her eyes she saw in those monster’s eyes his humanity reflecting back at her.  If she asked, he would stop.  Yuna bit her lip.

“N – No?”

A chuckle.  ‘ _Be certain, Yuna.  Should I continue?_ ’

She… she should obey the precepts.  She should complete her duty only, and continue on the journey.  She had duties to perform yet.  But she could not help but want desperately to forget for a while, to be selfish, and here Ifrit was offering her exactly that, and no one need ever know. 

“Yes!”  She insisted, pressing her breast up into his hand.  He squeezed and her words became a garbled moan.  “Ye – _esss_!”

An explosion of heat unlike any before it burst from the beast then, passing from him to her, through the apex of her thighs, and building there.  It came in waves upon waves, unceasing, until the woman was almost crying from the intensity.  Ifrit began to move, simply rubbing his torso up and down over her, his crotch pressing into hers, but the delicious friction had Yuna tossing her head back.  The heat kept coming, rising through her, burning away all her thoughts, her fears, her pains…

The clawed hand on her breast dug in gently, sharp nails tickling the skin through the fabric, before he scraped them gently downward.  Yuna moaned at that, and the beast laughed again, his hot breath tickling her neck as he leaned down.

‘ _Oh, Yuna… what a marvel you are_.’  He murmured in her mind; and his presence there increased exponentially, as he became one with her, his hand passing through her breast and into her, his lower torso entering her.  ‘ _Perhaps you are the one… the one we have all been waiting for, for so long…_ ’

Then his long tongue ran along her neck, a steaming press of flesh against flesh, before he gently nipped at the skin beneath her ear.  That sent all the fire bursting back outwards in a flare so bright Yuna blacked out.

When she came to, she was alone, physically at least. She could feel the connection to Ifrit inside her, a dim coal ready to be flamed to life the moment she called.  He could feel her, too, as Valefor could, for once again she had broken the rules. 

But this time, she had a harder time feeling guilty.  The Aeon had asked her to, after all, and if the Aeon desired it… surely it could not be bad?  And for a moment she found herself wondering why it was so forbidden, when surely it must strengthen the bond between Aeon and Summoner, and make them both stronger?

She didn’t wonder on it for long.  Yuna stood, trying to clean herself up as best she could before leaving the Chamber, unwilling to make her friends wait any longer.

* * *

“Yuna!”  The summoner spun round at the call, to face Wakka head on.  “Try summoning that new aeon!  Give it a shot at this thing!”

She turned back to look at the beast, a large green creature with vine like whips.  Nodding, she lifted her staff.  “Stand back everyone!” 

Fear and excitement made her heart pound as she began to reach inward.  Finding the light this time was even easier than before; Ifrit burned bright like a star, shimmering in the darkness, and when she reached for him, he met her halfway by reaching out to her.  The feeling was – astonishing.

Suddenly the ground beneath her quaked, and Yuna felt her legs fall out from under her just as the earth gave way.  Flung upwards, her eyes went wide as she clung to her staff, but she needn’t of worried; in the next instant she saw Ifrit appear among the stones, bursting from the earth below.  He reached for her, just as he had within her soul, his arm cradling her as they both fell back to the earth.

‘ _Never fear, Summoner_ ,’ Ifrit’s voice rang out in her mind.  ‘ _You shall never come to harm with me_.’  

The bond between them – she could feel it blazing in the air about them.  It was so _strong_.  Why in the world had Yevon ever forbidden this? 

Grin widening, Yuna lifted her staff.  With Ifrit beside her, she need not fear anything.


	3. Ixion

“Yuna!  Here’s more!”

The woman snapped her head up, facing Tidus’s direction.  He had a man’s arm slung around his shoulder, the soldier slumped against his side.  Behind him stood another in only slightly better shape.  She darted through the room towards them.  “Set them here.”  There were a few cots left, and every so often one would be vacated as…

“Thank you, milady.”  The man managed to say through a coughing fit as Tidus helped him lay down.   The summoner shushed him gently, hands moving over him as she began casting spells.

“Rest, sir.  You have worked enough.”

She was stiff with weariness and the cold, but hardly noticed it, the numbness long having settled in.  Her long blue skirts dragged her down, soaked with blood and wretchedness and water from the storm that had started to rage halfway to Djose, hours before.

Compared to those around her, she was fine.  A few nicks and bruises here and there, long since closed, nothing like the walking wounded who surrounded her.  The survivors of Operation Mi-ihen, limping along the road to Djose to the temple.  Not everyone could make it the whole way themselves; so Yuna, the temple, and those few able-bodied soldiers left had begun working to bring them all in, away from the disease and death of the battlefield.  All of Yuna’s guardians had been walking tirelessly through the rain and wind, finding stragglers on the side of the road, carrying the wounded to Yuna’s care.  One stayed at the temple at all times, guarding her and acting as assistant, and it seemed it was Tidus’s turn.

The man was covered in rain and sweat, chest rising heavily with his breath.  “How many?”

“Perhaps fifty, not much more.”  Yuna began to say.  “We’re running out of room.”

“Wakka was talking about building a lean-to outside the cavern.”

“I’m not sure how much good it will do with this rain.”  Frowning, the woman glanced down.  “We could…”  She bit her lip.  “There is room in the temple which is not being used.”

“You mean – the Trials?”  Tidus, the least pious of them, even seemed surprised by her admission.  But the truth was they were desperate.  “But… the rules, right?”

“The people of Yevon are more important than traditions.” 

“I mean, yeah, it’s just surprising to hear somebody say it.”  But he wasn’t disagreeing with her – he was smiling through his exhaustion, blue eyes bright.  Yuna met his gaze and felt her cheeks redden. 

They took their idea to the temple priests who, unsurprisingly, were not thrilled.  “And risk angering the aeon?  Angering Yevon?”

“Otherwise we risk letting these people die!”

“They are heathens!  They defied the teachings!”

“So, what, they deserve to sit out in the cold and freeze to death?”  Tidus spat angrily, color rising in his face.  “Come on, most of these people are so out of it they won’t even remember it anyway.”

Yuna, listening to their debate, nodded to herself.  “I will go and speak to the aeon.”

“What?”

Lifting her head, she nodded.  “I shall pray to the aeon for guidance, and for permission to use the Trials to house more of the injured.  Perhaps with the aeon’s blessing, you will allow us to do so?”

The priest, taken aback, blustered.  “Well, I, um,”

“Then it is settled.”  Smiling, Yuna stepped past him.

“Yuna!”

Tidus was chasing after her.  “You can’t face the trials and the aeon alone.”

“I must.”  She turned to him.  “You know a little of my magic, your time will be better served helping the wounded here.  Please.  Help them.”

His eyes examined her face, before he sighed.  “Auron will have my head for this.”

She smiled.  “We’ll keep it our secret.”

The man chuckled at that.  “Yeah, right.  I bet his guardian senses are tingling right now.”

She didn’t quite understand the joke, but like many of the mysterious things about Tidus, she found it endearing anyway.

* * *

_The sea…the crash of waves… the cries of seagulls on the wind… was she home, in Besaid?  She could taste the salt on the air, feel the warmth of the summer sun on her skin… but it couldn’t be…_

Yuna opened her eyes and found herself lying on a beach.  Her mind was clouded, foggy, and for a moment she struggled hard to think of where she was and what she had been doing. 

The fayth.

Immediately she moved to stand, only to find it almost impossible.

“You have pushed yourself too far, my lady.”

The young woman’s head spun.  Behind her, sauntering down the beach, was a strange figure.  A man, dark skinned, tall, head covered by a cowl.  Fighting to her feet, Yuna ignored her own pain and dizziness to face him.  “Who are you?  And where – “

“You know the answers to your questions.”

Her brow furrowed.  “The temple… I…”

“You entered my chamber only to collapse.”  The man’s eyes softened as he approached, kneeling beside her.  “You are at your limits, my lady.”

No… shaking her head, she clenched her fists.  “I will be fine.  The people – my lord,” bowing slightly, she continued, “Please give me leave to bring the wounded into your temple.  There is a storm outside –“

“I know.”  He smiled sadly.  “I am kin to the storms of Spira.”  But he slowly shook his head.  “It does not matter what I say, the priests will not allow it.”

“But - !”

“Yuna, hush.”  A hand brushed lightly over her cheek, and in its wake she felt a tingle dance over her.  “We haven’t much time.”

Confused, the girl tried to raise a debate again, but found it hard to speak.  It was hard to do so much as breathe.  Her entire body ached like a sore wound, her head fuzzy and weary, eyes blurred and stinging with pain.  The hand caressed her cheek again, running down her neck, to her shoulder. 

“There is a way I can assist you,” The man began again. “Allow me to lend you my power.  Let our souls sing together, and you can take from me what you need.”

Brow furrowed, she asked quietly, weakly, “Are you…?”

“You know who I am.”  He chuckled as her gaze darkened.  “There is so much you know that you’ve yet to acknowledge.  You will, one day.  When you are stronger.”

Feeling herself weaken, Yuna struggled to remain awake, to remain sitting up even as she faltered.  “A – are you sure?” 

Ixion only smiled.  “No one would be more worthy.”

And so she fell.

* * *

It was like bathing in a storm.  Lightning sparked in her thighs and fled through her veins, lighting fires in their wake.  The world was all darkness with flashes of light dancing through, each one a punch to the gut, a hand around her throat, almost painful in their overwhelming brilliance.  This wasn’t like the previous experiences with the other aeons. She’d been awake then, been forming a bond with semi-physical spirits merging with her physical form.

This was a dream, a connection between their souls.  He was _inside_ her, in the most spiritual sense, penetrating her soul to its darkest depths and shining the brightness of his light upon them.  Every touch was a lightning-strike, every heartbeat a roll of thunder.  She felt him, Ixion’s presence in her mind, his thrumming, potent spirit cascading through her, and behind it all a tremulous, baritone laugh, building in waves upon waves.

_You are a marvel._

He was pouring his energy into her, his lightning, his life, and it felt wonderful.  Like pure pleasure filling her, and filling her, until she might burst, but it never ended.  Eventually she felt the shadow of a figure, the almost-presence of something above her, within her, moving back and forth and back and the friction drove her mad, like her skin was catching fire.  Sparks flickered between them and Ixion laughed, his transparent hands running through her hair; and yet, at the same time, she could almost swear they were running, running faster and faster with the thundering echo of hoofbeats through a dark canyon towards a distant light.

_We’ve chosen you, Yuna._ A breath of air tickled her ear and sent a spark of pleasure arching through her.  _We will stand beside you no matter what comes next.  However it ends… let us enjoy the here and now, until then._

* * *

They lost a lot of people, that night.

Yuna tumbled out of the fayth a short while after she’d enter it, proclaiming that the fayth had given the blessing… only for the priests to outright refuse, for fear of angering Yevon.  The temple was filled as much as it could be, but it wasn’t enough.  More took refuge in the nearby store, and as many as possible huddled beneath the stone walls outside.  Lean-tos and tents were erected as could be, but the wind knocked most of the down.

After leaving the fayth, Yuna didn’t rest again that night.  She watched over the wounded, moving from bed to bed, healing as she went.  Her guardians were never far behind.  They, along with some of the healthier soldiers and some temple priests, were doing everything from preparing food to changing bedding to… to dealing with the bodies of the dead.

There were a lot of dead… and most of them froze in the rain and cold outside. 

Just thinking about it afterwards put Yuna into a fury.  All those deaths, so easily prevented, save for the stubbornness of those in power, and their damnable tradition.  A few months ago, Yuna could not have imagined thinking those words, and yet… standing before the graves, head hung low, she could not help but feel bitter.

_You did so well, child._   A spark of light lit in her chest, gently and sweetly spreading through her, like a warm blanket _.  You did all you could and more, and that was enough._

“It could never be enough,” She whispered.

_Hush_.  Ixion whispered.  _Rest_.  _Let this be enough… for tonight_.

_For tonight, then_ , she thought, stumbling drunkenly to her pallet in the temple.  She didn’t quite make it there; collapsing on the floor nearby, soaked in dirt and blood, sweat and the stench of death.    


	4. Shiva

Sweat glistened on the summoner's brow as she stood by the window of her room. Yuna winced at the setting sun, as it painted the desert a crimson red. She'd never been anywhere as hot as Bikanel Island.

Yet, she could not regret the situation, though the circumstances were less than ideal. Undoubtedly her guardians were out there, worried and looking for her, if they weren't already injured themselves. She tried not to dwell on it too much; trapped within Home, she could do little for them but pray.

All her life, she'd wondered what her mother's people were like. She'd had little fantasies of desert dwellers, wandering forever, dancing and singing by the campfires at night. What little she remembered from her father's stories as a child, painted with the romantic brush of fond memory. The reality was both much harsher, and better. Home was a dirty, crowded place; all over the buildings were falling apart, rusted and worn, constantly being repaired haphazardly with parts that didn't quite fit or work the way they were meant to. The entire structure was a ton of guesswork, as the Al Bhed fumbled in the dark with technology much older than their own.

Still, it was so alive. Everywhere she went – and she was allowed to move freely – there were children playing in the streets, playing with strange mechanical things that floated and flew about in the air, and adults chatting at market stalls built along the walkways. It was a towering maze of metal and steel intertwined into a mechanical jungle. There was a part of her that really wished she could stay.

Wandering beneath those structures, eyes gazing upward and lost in thought, Yuna almost didn't notice a young child running towards her. At the last moment, she saw the movement, hands reaching instinctively to support the girl.

"Oof!" She caught the kids shoulders and kept her from falling. Backing away, the child shook her head, looked up, and went wide eyed with fear at the sight. "Oui'na y cissuhan!*" She started backing away.

"Oh, no – it's alright." Yuna insisted, staying where she was, heart twisted by the sight of such fear in her bright green eyes.

"E's cunno!**" the girl shouted, then spun and ran off, her friends quickly following her. Yuna sighed in her wake, eyes downcast. Her own people, so afraid of her. How badly Yevon had failed the children of Spira.

Yuna knew the teachings. She knew that working with machina more than was necessary was against the teachings. But, surely one could condemn a choice without condemning a whole people?

Sighing again, Yuna picked up her weary feet, and kept walking, trying to ignore the wide berth the whole marketplace gave her.

/

"I heard there was some kinda trouble today."

Yuna looked up as her uncle approached the dinner table. "Oh, no, it was fine." She shook her head. He seemed unconvinced, eyebrow cocked as he took a seat. "Really. I'm fine."

Since the Al Bhed had found her and took her in, she'd spent most of her time in her family's company. There were no words for the joy it brought her to finally know them, the way she should have all along. Uncle Cid, her cousin Brother, others she'd never even heard of… she had family. Her mother's family.

Every evening, she would have dinner with Cid, who rarely had any other time he could spend with the girl. It was sometimes difficult; Cid wasn't a chatty or open person, and Yuna wasn't the best general conversationalist either. She could keep polite conversation going with Yevonites, sure; but she'd never spoken to any Al Bhed other than Rikku, and between the two cousins, there were simply topics they Did Not Touch. There was no subtle understanding like that between Cid and Yuna.

"I was wondering…" Yuna found her curiosity bidding her to speak. "Your people's language – is it really a traditional language?"

"'Your people' – it's our damn people, kid." Yuna winced as Cid's voice raised, and when the man saw, he sighed and dropped his shoulders. "Sorry. Don't mind me. I'm just an old grump."

"You're right, though, it's not a natural 'language' like Yevish or Guadan, what have you. If we had a language of our own, it's long gone. But we needed a way to speak that no one else could understand, given the… trouble the other peoples of Spira have been giving us. So we created the cypher, and started calling it our language. It's Yevish, tossed into a bowl and mucked up a bit."

"That's really interesting." Yuna went wide eyed. To imagine how difficult that must've been, to recreate a language from another, create new rules and pronunciation for it, all to keep out of the purview of the Yevon Church. "Though, I regret the need for it."

"Regret? Hah." Cid shook his head, tearing off a big bite of bread. "Regret's nice and all but it does jack squat. So long as that netelimuic*** rule about machina is in place, things'll keep going as they are and we'll be stuck here, starving and digging in the dirt for scraps."

Yuna bit her lip. "But… the teachings say they are dangerous. They are forbidden. If – if the Al Bhed did not use machina…"

"What else can we do?" Cid chuckled darkly. "Bow down to Yevon? Trust the church to protect us? Build a little town of sea shacks and sit on our asses until Sin comes around and blows 'em away? Let him kill us all, and just trust that one day it'll all be over because Yevon will make it so?"

"It will be so." Yuna insisted fiercely. "If – If we have faith, if we believe, and we fight for it… there will be a way."

"It's been a 1000 years, Yuna." The man replied, his voice suddenly haggard and tired. "What can you do that no other summoner hasn't already tried?"

The woman had no idea what to say. She fell silent, and her uncle's brow furrowed. He stood, and strode to the dirty, partially cracked window that looked over the desert.

"It's a harsh fucking world out there. Specially for Al Bhed. You can stay here on the island, burn up in the heat every day, struggle to keep this damn thing," He started, accenting his words with a fist banged on the near wall. "From collapsing in on itself. But that ain't good enough. Got to eat, got to get supplies, so you go out into the world. The whole damn ocean's a trap. Spira's mainland's got maybe a few thousand square feet of land that Sin can't reach if it tried. Everybody there's just cowering and waiting for Sin to come wash em away, take their livelihoods, their belongings, their homes, loved ones, hope."

"We try to make things better. And we haven't kept it for ourselves!" Cid spun round. "We've found things, brought 'em to the church. 'This could help feed your families!' 'This could keep them warm at night!' 'This could keep them healthy!' No dice." He cursed in Al Bhed, crossing his arms. "They would rather everyone die praising the Church of Yevon for its faith and its honor as it tosses summoners at Sin year after year, than take care of their own."

"So, fuck 'em. They can hate us all they want. But I'm going to take care of my own." Finally, he turned to her. "I'm not asking you to understand. I'm not even asking you to accept it, or forgive it. But it's my choice. It's our choice. Respect that."

Yuna slowly nodded. "Yes, I… I do."

/

Yuna lay in bed that night, restless, and felt a chill travel up her spine. Her eyes widened in recognition and realization.

She had only recently obtained her fourth Aeon, but due to the circumstances, had not been able to give it the same time and attention as the others. Their joining was brief and hurried; soon after, Yuna had chosen to face off against Seymour, a Maester of Yevon, with her guardians.

Seymour… he had killed his own father, a Maester! And why? She couldn't understand it. He was faithful to Yevon. He wanted to protect the people. How could he do it? And how could the Church have not seen the darkness in him? How could this all be so wrong?

And… if this was wrong… if Seymour, a Maester, was corrupt… what about the rest of the Church?

Another wispy brush of silk against her skin, cold like ice. Hush, a voice whispered. Worry another day. A tug on her mind, gentle, but insistent. Yuna tensed with readiness, eagerness, and a touch of nerves.

Then, she slowly closed her eyes, and fell.

/

Next she knew, the woman found herself reclined against something, no – someone. Against someone in a world of ethereal blue, of glittering gems and high tree tops… Macalania Woods. Not the real place, no, but a memory, a dream of a place, that still seemed so similar. It smelled of the leaves of the Macala Trees, fresh and chilly, like snow on a spring day.

An arm moved up along Yuna's chest, and drew the summoner's attention directly to the shimmering blue flesh encasing her. She gasped, suddenly highly aware of all that was pressed against her, of the firm flesh beneath her and the odd juxtaposition of sharp shards of ice, jutting out of that same flesh, digging into her back.

"We have not been formally introduced," A sultry voice whispered against her ear. "You have been remiss, my lady,"

Heat flushed the woman's face. "I … I apologize." Her hands clenched into tight fists.

"I hear that you gave my brethren before me quite the welcome. Am I not worthy of such things?"

The woman felt her heart rising into her throat. "More than worthy!" The idea of an aeon thinking it wasn't worth her… no. No, she was the one not worthy. She was the young, foolish, unsure girl, still trying to decide what was wrong and what was right, trying to make sense of a world gone wrong. Shouldn't she know these things? Shouldn't a summoner of Yevon be sure of her convictions?

A gentle hand fell through her hair, tickling her ear with a sweet chill. "Hush, child, no more fears," Shiva whispered, and a cold press of soft lips touched her neck, sending a shock through her whole body, like someone had injected ice into her veins. It felt… good.

Biting her lip, Yuna turned in Shiva's hold. The aeon's face was a vision. Shimmering like diamond, long thick tresses chiming like bells with her every movement. Shiva smiled gently. "You are a sweet thing," The aeon whispered.

Heart hammering, Yuna tried to think back to her previous encounters. No longer did she wonder if this was right, if this was okay – because she needed this. Needed not to feel alone, to feel wanted, to feel right for once. Not to question or to doubt, for just a moment, just to feel.

"Yes, feel," Shiva whispered, within her and without her. "Feel with me."

There had been something primeval, something alien, about Yuna's previous experiences with the aeons. They had been bestial, rooted in the spiritual or dream realm, and while Yuna knew this too had to be a dream, it felt more… real. It felt solid, almost human, as her hands touched curves similar to her own, and similarly soft lips met in gentle caresses.

Valefor had been a woman, in life; Yuna new this from the aeon's memories, dispersed into her mind over time. But the centuries had worn that identity away, until Valefor became more a spirit of air and sky than anything else. Shiva was firmly rooted in the feminine, yet, still more than mortal. She was a Goddess, a Queen of Ice at whose feet Yuna would gladly worship.

Their limbs entwined the illusion of fabric between them melted away. The aeon's whole frame vibrated with cold, yet Yuna felt comfortable. The chill was like a pleasurable sting wherever they touched, Shiva's fingertips a sharp wind bristling across her skin. Heady with the pleasure, she stretched across the summon, arms stretched overhead to entwine gently in her hair.

And then… oh. Shiva grinned at Yuna's shocked expression as the aeon's hand, cupped between her thighs, sent shivers unlike any other through her. It was a blast of shocking, deep pleasure, almost painful in its bliss, like being struck by lightning. Yuna couldn't help but howl when the cold rushed through her again, from the cradle of her thighs to the base of her neck, and she began to shake.

Shiva's other arm wrapped around her as Yuna's head fell forward, too overcome by the feeling. On a whim, she opened her mouth, and licked the aeon's shimmering skin – it was like diamond, slightly rough and bitterly cold, with a strange sweetness.

"Oh!" Another, sharper thrill, as Shiva began to rock against her, their legs intertwined, one thick blue thigh against Yuna's lower back, pulling her downwards. She lost herself in the thrill of those motions, the chill that had all her hair standing on end, her nipples stiff, sore points. She arched her back as her completion neared, and Shiva took the chance to take one of her breasts in her mouth. She sucked, hard, and a freeze burst inside her breast that threw her over the edge. "Shiva!"

For a while after, they lay quietly together, in peace and contentment. Then, Shiva stiffened suddenly, with an audible gasp. Yuna sat up, concerned.

"What is it?"

The aeon's eyes met hers. "He is here."

/

Yuna's eyes met Seymours, hard as steel, ignoring her uncle's insistent hand on her shoulder.

"You can't do this!" Cid shouted. "Cdippunh yc ouin sudran!**** This is ridiculous!"

Within her mind, the aeons loudly agreed with the Al Bhed leader. 'You cannot trust him,' Ifrit rumbled, a soft burning ember behind her eyes. 'He will not keep his word.'

Valefor, who spoke less than the others, did no more than send a furious wave of fear and concern towards her, expressing the aeon's worry for her. Shiva was not so silent.

'We have seen his heart, child.'

'Yes, it's a rotten thing.' Ifrit continued, words sparking and shifting like static. 'Once he was worthy, now… there is nothing to be done.'

She sent them a wave of comfort and reassurance, a tight frown on her face. 'I must try.'

"You swear you will leave the Al Bhed alone?" Yuna repeated to the Maester. Behind him, a squadron of Yevonite monks stood, armed and prepared to fire at the Al Bhed civilians gathered in front of Home, staring in fear at the invaders. "If I return with you, you will not harm them?"

"I swear, as a Maester of Yevon, to return to Bevelle with you and leave everyone here unharmed," Seymour bowed, a wicked smile on his face. "Well, my lady? Do you agree?"

Frown deepening, Yuna clenched her fists. She had no choice. If there was the slightest chance they could get out of this without violence, she had to take it. Too many lives were in the balance. The Al Bhed were poor, haphazardly armed, and had many civilians, even young children, among them. The monks were an elite, well supplied fighting force. Home would never have a chance.

"I agree."

"Yuna!" Cid forcefully spun the girl around, putting a hand on both shoulders. "You can't do this!"

The woman smiled slightly, her heart lifted by the show of love. They'd known each other for barely a few days, yet, she felt he did care for her. Raising a hand, Yuna settled it on top of his.

"I don't expect you to understand," She began. "But you must respect it. It is my choice."

Realization widened his eyes. After a moment, his shoulders slumped, arms falling away. She squeezed his hand one last time, before turning and stepping towards Seymour. He stepped to the side, gesturing to his ship, and after one moment's hesitation, she moved onto the ramp.

 

*You're a summoner!  


**I'm sorry!  


***Ridiculous.  


****Stubborn as your mother


	5. Bahamut

Her wedding dress dragging behind her, Yuna stumbled further into the dark of Via Purifico.  Covered in the muck and filth of the corridors, she squinted into the shadows, staff in one hand, folds of her once-white dress in the other.  The Maesters had been kind enough to allow her the dignity of self-defense; apparently, allowing her to have her own clothes was too much. 

Using the staff as a guide, she walked on, trying not to look too closely at the scene around her.  The water was too thick, too murky to be clean.  Brief glances at the walls revealed stains, scars, marks she doesn’t want to investigate too closely… once, she tripped and made the mistake of looking down only to see her heel piercing what once had been a man’s sternum, the rest of him spread about beneath the water. 

It’d been perhaps a handful of hours since the Church abandoned them to the tunnels beneath the city.  Yuna hadn’t found a sign of her friends, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.  As much as she wanted to see them again… she hoped they weren’t down here.  Maybe they’d escaped somehow… she could hope.

She was exhausted to the bone, weighed down with sorrow and anger and the thick wet weight dragging behind her.  The few moments she’d had with them before the trial, they’d barely had time to talk… she’d been half-out of it, having worn herself down with the Fayth beforehand.  But she can still recall the heartbroken look on Rikku’s face, her distant eyes, the weary way she carried herself.  The two of them hadn’t spoken – but as the prisoners had been made to pass each other, Yuna being taken out of the cell to speak before the maesters, the others placed inside one, she’d had but a moment to talk to Tidus.

His frantic, worried expression stuck in her mind.  _Home’s gone_ , he managed to say, fighting the guards as much as he could.  _Yevon destroyed it, the Al Bhed are –_

Then they took him away, his words still ringing in Yuna’s ears hours after.

Anger.  Stumbling through Via Purifico, cut and bruised with a bleeding heart, Yuna was furious.  The words from the day were all blurring in her mind… the betrayal of the Church, the Maesters… the lies, the deceit of it all… and Seymour… she’d known he was on a dark path but she’d thought there was something in him that was good, something that wanted, in a twisted way, to help Spira.  Now, she knew.  He was a monster.  He’d betrayed his word, the Church had betrayed their word, they were all selfish and manipulative and abusive, putting themselves before the people of Spira –

Water sloshed in the darkness ahead and Yuna stilled, face twisted into a scowl.  With a hiss, she thrusted her staff forward, lighting up the darkness and the monsters with fire.  They screeched as they died, even as their corpses were doused by the nasty muck they stood in.  It didn’t quell her anger; it fueled it.  This place… it should not even exist.  This horror wasn’t a place for the wicked to be punished, she saw now, it was a place to silence dissenters, to quell disagreement…

Could she really be thinking all this?

Days before, she’d been defending the Church to her uncle.  Now, she stood beneath it ready to tear it down at the seams.  The Church had betrayed them all – betrayed her.  The Maesters had allowed so much violence and pain, all to serve their own ends.  They allowed Seymour his actions.  They allowed him to kill his father, to kill the Al Bhed.  They branded her a traitor and an infidel for disagreeing with them, for wanting to protect people from the monsters the Church was defending.

If that was what they called her, then fine.  Scowling, Yuna kept moving, powered only by her fierce emotions.  She would be a traitor then.  If wanting to protect Spira and her people above the church and its image was traitorous… then that was what she was.

A thunderous chuckle echoed through her suddenly.  At first, the woman jumped, terrified that something was in the darkness with her.  But the sound hadn’t come from without… it came from within.

A heady voice rumbled in her mind, rolling over her like a storm cloud.

_It is time we spoke, little one._

* * *

 

When she next opened her eyes, Via Purifico was gone. 

Yuna blinked, stunned.  It took a moment for the reality to set in.  Her body wasn’t sore anymore, the heaviness swept away like a blanket taken off.  Slowly, she glanced down at herself, seeing her traditional robes, her boots.  Beneath them was… her reflection.  A solid, watery surface she stood upon, completely clean, unlike the vial filth of Via Purifico.

Confused, Yuna glanced upward, and in the distance, saw a familiar figure.  The short stature, the blue robes, the gold ring… She remembered.  It clicked – they were in her mind, and this was…

“Bahamut,” Slowly, Yuna stepped forward.  The figure turned.  Beneath the hood shone two bright eyes that froze her in her tracks.  They were large, childlike, but the flame that burned within them belied the age of the creature he truly was. 

“Hello, Yuna,” The voice was a murmur, youthful and echoing in the empty space.  Blue sky and blue water stretched to the horizon, and all that stood within that space was them.  Was this her mind?  Or his?  Or some realm between, that connected them?  “We did not have much time to speak, before.”

The words send her back, her mind reeling with all that had happened.  The wedding.  Her friend’s arrival.  The prison, the trial, tumbling into the darkness below Bevelle.  She still can’t quite escape the dumbfounded feeling, the shock rolling through her.  Up until that fall into darkness, she’d felt sure something would happen… It was all a trick, for sure.  The maesters were luring Seymour into a false sense of security.  They were pulling some kind of maneuver against him.  At any moment, they would come to the rescue, they would stand at her back, the Church would help her, like it was meant to… then she fell, and the world fell out from underneath her.

For a moment she felt the sting of betrayal all over again.  Then she schooled her features into a façade of calmness, and bowed to the aeon.

“It is an honor,” She managed, trying not to cry.  It’s hard – in this place, everything feels – more.  It’s not the physical world.  Emotions were closer to the surface.

When she stood up again, Bahamut was suddenly much closer, hardly two feet away. Yuna barely managed not to look shocked, but it must have shown somehow, as Bahamut smirked. 

“The honor’s mine,” Bahamut insisted with a sly look.  Yuna fidgeted, standing straight, hands clasped hard in front of her.  Four times already she’s faced the aeons, allowed them into her heart, but never before has she felt so – taken off guard.  There’s something unsettling about this one.  Perhaps it’s the sheer volume of power that she could feel within him, trembling beneath the placid surface, or perhaps it’s the uncanny youth of him, the cherubic face.

The heavy look of his eyes, the smirk on his face, made Yuna feel heavy all over again.  Or perhaps that was the thick weight of the air… at the realization shame curled through her gut, hot and heavy.  She turned her gaze away.

“I’ve heard of the welcome you gave the others.”  At his words, her gaze snapped back.  “Am I to be different?”  Eyes widening, Yuna tried to think of a way to sooth his hurt feelings, but by the sly look, Bahamut was not actually upset.  “Is it this form?”  He held up his arms.  “The living are so focused on the physical after all.”

“I – I…”  Sighing, Yuna lowered her head.  “Forgive me.”

“That’s alright.”  Suddenly, pyreflies erupted into the air before her, taking the woman by surprise.  Her head flew up to meet the burning gaze of a dragon.  The pyreflies continued building, filling out the enormous form Yuna had never seen in person.  Her heart lodged in her throat as she peered back to look at all of him.  The great spread of his wings, the long thick tail, sharp golden claws… swallowing, the woman turned her gaze back to those bright eyes.

Bahamut rumbled with laughter and the sound sent shivers through the ground, and through her. _Is this better?_   Yuna can barely reply, which makes the dragon laugh again. _Fear not, summoner.  I may have been one when I died, but it has been a long time since I was a child_.

The dragon, fully formed, knelt before Yuna upon one great knee, the world seeming to shudder around him as he did.  He was – huge.  And now, in this form, Yuna could feel the power thrumming beneath the surface, like a storm cloud trapping thunder and lightning within.  All this… hers to command?  It didn’t sound real.  It couldn’t be –

Almost a decade of the Church’s teaches rise to her mind and almost ruthlessly Yuna threw them away.  She won’t throw away Yevon; she believed in Yevon, in his teachings.  But the Church was corrupted.  Everything they’d taught her, she can’t be sure of anymore.  What the priests had said, and spoken… before, the words had been so solid in her mind, so important, but they’ve crumbled and been blown away with the wind.

 _Still so much to learn_.  She heard the dragon murmur softly, kindly.  _But that is for another day._  

“Wait.”  Yuna felt the intent, saw the arm reaching for her and despite the leap of pleasure in her gut, she held up a hand.  “I – want to understand.  Some of the things the others have said… and what’s been done… I want to know why.  Why does the Church fear it?  And why does it…”

Why does it feel so good?

There was a kind sheen to Bahamut’s eyes.  One of those golden orbs was as large as Yuna’s fist.  The woman gulped at meeting his gaze. 

 _So much has been lost._   The dragon sighed, a hot breath that tickled Yuna’s face, tasting of smoke. _And we have little time.  But I can give you some of what you are looking for._ A hand lifted to her face, the enormous claws engulfing her, and then her mind was overwhelmed.  Knowledge, mind to mind, heart to heart, suddenly flowing between them.

_There have always been summoners, before Yevon, before Sin.  Once, summoning was a magic art that any could chose to study.  The aeons were originally spirits of the recently departed, those who had not yet crossed over, called upon for aid.  But soon after the summon was ended, the departed spirits would pass on.  They had no roots in the physical world.  There was no guarantee a summoner would receive help when it was asked for, as no sure connection existed between summoner and summoned.  The art was imperfect._

_The concept of Fayth developed to solve this problem.  Soon before death, a living soul could be interned in stone, sealed by magic to this plane.  Through this connection, summoner and the aeon could speak, connect, and become bonded.  Back then, the Fayth were willing souls.  Elders, the ill and dying, those who volunteered.  When a soul grew tired of acting as the Fayth, it was given rites of passage, and allowed peace.  This is how it was, for a long time._

_To bond souls is a powerful act.  The stronger the bond, the stronger the summon.  To bond your soul to another is to_ be _intimate.  It’s different for every summoner. I have met souls with whom speech and shared experience were their desire; souls who wanted romance, passion; souls who desired the close fondness of friendship._

 _Physical touch, platonic or otherwise, is not always involved.  It simply seems that this is_ your _bond – you, who have been denied so much joy and pleasure and relaxation in your life, want nothing more than to feel bliss and for a while, forget._

_The act feels good because it is good.  We are one.  What we feel, you feel, and the same is true of us.  Being shared and accepted by another at the deepest level… what more do the living want in this world?  I have seen all of you, Yuna, and I accept you.  Let me into your heart._

* * *

 

 When she next opened her eyes, the world was blurry, distant.  Groaning, Yuna glanced up, and when her vision cleared, came to see those yellow eyes smiling at her from above.  It took a moment for her to realize she’d fallen, and that two great paws were cradling her, engulfing her whole body.  A blush took to her face. 

Nothing needed to be said.  Their eyes met; Yuna bit her lip.  The dragon growled and his whole body shook, and with one great flap of his wings, took to the sky. 

Yuna screeched, clutching madly at the claws around her, though she needn’t have worried.  Bahamut chuckled, and she could feel it through the thick chest she was being cradled against.  The scales felt – nice.  Warm, more malleable than she would have imagined, not painful, sharp, or hard.  She let a hand caress them, but only had a moment before suddenly she felt them slid to a halt.  They were still airborne, so high up she couldn’t see the world below them.  When her eyes lifted skyward again, they widened at the sight before her.

The dragon’s head was lowered towards her, and behind it, the gold ring which floated behind Bahamut’s back was moving.  It flipped overhead, coming to the front where it lay flat, like a platform.  Gentle hands placed Yuna upon the ring, her rear resting upon the large central dais, her lower legs hanging from the edge. 

One draconian hand returned, a single claw trailing along her boot, and rising.  Yuna moved with it, letting her legs be pressed apart, her upper body falling back.  She let her head rest upon one of the outward spirals.  Breath catching, Yuna pulled her skirts up herself, and blushed furiously at the amused rumble that brought on. 

She thought to reply, but had no chance.  The dragons head leaned between her legs, the fierce mouth parting and for a moment, the sight of those bright fangs stopped her heart.  But it was the long thick muscle which touched her, brushing along her inner thigh.  Head snapping back, Yuna gasped, back arching.  It was so – wet.  And huge!  The entire thing pressed against her sex and she squealed, pressing her thighs together. 

It didn’t matter – this creature of the spiritual plane passed into her, through her, his tongue pressing inside her with no effort.  Hot fiery pleasure sparked in her veins, white spots darting through her vision, as she reached out to grasp at one of the ring’s spirals.  A clawed hand brushed against her chest, one claw brushing her nipple, and she arched into it.  Reached out with her free hand and almost grabbed the hand as it moved, trying to pull it back again.  Bahamut chuckled, and Yuna was too lost in bliss to be embarrassed.

“Please…”  She gasped.  “Please!”  The hand joyfully returned to work, the entire paw embracing her torso, two claws on top encircling and massaging her breast.  The other claw cradled her head gently, sharp claws raking over her scalp.  The tongue kept going, in, out, in a facsimile of the act itself, and she flushed at the thought.  The apex of her thighs ached and burned, rising and rising in a now familiar pattern.  One claw brushed along her stomach, and she bit her lip at the feeling.

Warm scales began running along her legs, curling between her legs, and glancing down Yuna saw Bahamut’s tail moving toward her.  It was massively long, and thicker the further it went.  Up it went, intertwined between her legs, before moving upward beneath her skirts.  To Yuna’s audible shock, it ran along the crack of her behind, doing nothing more, but still it was enough to enflame Yuna’s cheeks.  The fact that it had happened – that it had felt nice – that she’d liked it – all of it shamed and confused her, while at the same time feeling good. It was all so much. 

She wasn’t supposed to like any of this.  But at least most of it was similar to normal sexuality, wasn’t it?  But that… that wasn’t supposed to get involved was it?  The Church had been rather mute about anything not pertaining to procreation. 

 _Just feel, Yuna._ Bahamut whispered. _If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.  But if you enjoy it… and it is misplaced shame which stops you… ask yourself, why?_

She did.  The Church had decreed it – sexuality was meant to exist in a certain way and no other.  Summoners were meant to work with their summons in a certain way, and no other.  The Church was always right.

_All lies._

Nodding, Yuna pressed upwards into his embrace.  “Yes… please.”

The tail kept moving, along her spine, across her shoulder, bringing her closer to Bahamut until he was almost pressed against her, the thickest part of his tail pressed hard between her legs, spreading her thighs open.  She keened, pressing up against it, as the thin end of the tail slipped along her neck and into her mouth.  Yuna sucked on it greedily, tasting fire and smoke, feeling a fire of her own building inside, a firestorm, the warmth of Bahamut’s inner flame warm between her legs as she rubbed against his scales. 

Bahamut’s head drifted down to her breasts, where claws had exposed them, and encircled one, then the other, with his tongue.  The tail pressed harder between her legs, the length between her bottom spreading her cheeks obscenely.  The beast’s right hand drifted between her legs as well, semi-physical, drifting into her flesh with ease without ever moving the tail.  One long claw easily slipped into her wet path, and she squealed at the sudden feeling of fullness.  What a trick – most of his arm, unreal and out of the physical, save one clawed finger drilling into her, without any pain.  The large hand spread all along her lower region, and the thumb of that same hand went inside her – inside her rear end.

Stuffed full.  The wide muscular tail spreading her open and pressing her legs up and back, spreading her rear, the semi-physical form passing into her front and behind, tail and arms curling around her and into her, the physical soon melting away until it felt as if the entirety of the spirit was passing into her, through her, dragonfire and steel taking root in her soul, and Yuna screamed as she came in Bahamut’s embrace, as the dragon became one with her.

* * *

 

Isaaru stood no chance against them.

He tried to stop her; still tied to the shackles of the Church, bent to their will, and for the first time Yuna saw how foolish it was.  Not only how much the acolytes and summoners overlooked and ignored, but how big a difference the bond really made. 

They fought; aeon to aeon, creature to creature, and the same summons in the hands of two different summoners were miles apart.  None of Isaaru’s summons could match hers.  He struggled to achieve Overdrive with any of them; Shiva’s ice spells in the other summoner’s hands were frost compared to the blizzards Shiva and Yuna could create.  Ifrit’s fireballs were miniscule with Isaaru; with Yuna, meteors rained from the sky.  The difference was incalculable, and both could see it.

The victory lifted her heart, heart pumping with the feeling.  Covered in sweat and filth in her ruined wedding dress, surrounded by her friends, Yuna stood above him, triumphant.

“Tidus?”  She asked breathlessly.  Something in her voice must have startled him, as he hesitated.

“Uh, yeah?”

“May I please borrow Brotherhood?” 

Slowly, the man approached, glancing at the fallen Isaaru nervously.  The others began to fidget too, save for Kimarhi and Auron.  Still, despite his nerves, Tidus handed the blade over.  Isaaru watched with a tight gaze, but made no move to defend himself.

Yuna took the blade – and then took the rest of her train in her other hand, and began tearing through it.  In strips, she tore the dress to pieces, the beautiful pure white wedding gown, the lie the Church had painted over her, their vestal bride, their virgin sacrifice.  Tearing it short until it was nothing but a skirt, she tossed the remnants over to the ground before Isaaru, the ribbons stained blood red and murky black.

“You should leave,” She murmured, handing the blade back to Tidus with little fanfare.  She was still furious, still hurt and wounded and in mourning, but she was also very tired, too tired to feel it anymore.  “Eventually, they’ll betray you too.”

She walked away without looking back.  She knew her guardians would follow her.  They’d follow her anywhere, even here, into the darkness of Via Purifico, and beyond it.  To the end she was walking towards with even steps, even as her heart ached. 

 _It will be well_ , she heard the dragon’s reassurance, his steady strength building her up. _You will find the way._

With the weight dragging behind her finally gone, Yuna found it almost easy to believe him.


End file.
